


sometimes the past echoes in the future

by pensiveVisionary (hamburr)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Consent, Identifying Marks - Non-Soulmate, M/M, Trans Aaron Burr, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 22:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8464963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamburr/pseuds/pensiveVisionary
Summary: Aaron Burr was born with two marks.There are two reasons that could be: he could have had two things that contributed to his last death, or...Well.





	

**Author's Note:**

> __  
> [you got a look in your eyes, i knew you in a past life](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ECBhz_1AaSM)  
>   
> 
> i wanted to do more with this but i can't remember what

Aaron Burr was born with two marks.

There are two reasons that could be: he could have had two things that contributed to his last death, or...

Well.

 

There’s one on his temple, white against his dark skin, following the trail of a vein or artery somewhere beneath. Simple enough. A natural death, a stroke probably.

The other is on his chest. It’s between two of his ribs. It could be nothing but a gunshot wound.

It doesn’t belong to him.

 

They meet in almost the exact same way they had, the time before. They’re in a bar, and it’s dim and it's late and--

“Hey,” says a voice, behind Aaron. Aaron turns, and is frozen. There is something in those dark eyes that hurts to look at-- something only too familiar-- and the man freezes too. There is recognition in his face, a reflection of Aaron’s. There is a resonance here, something that echoes through hundreds of years, and they both feel it, the magnitude of it.

Aaron feels like there’s a magnet strapped into the center of his chest, and that it’s trying to find its alignment with a matching one on the man in front of him.

“Well, fuck,” says the not-so-stranger.

“What’s your name?” Aaron gets out, around the tightness in his chest.

“Alexander Hamilton.” And Aaron didn’t remember, no one remembers, but with Alexander’s name, it feels like everything has suddenly clicked into place. “Yours?”

“Aaron Burr. I’m surprised you haven’t taken off yet.”

Alexander, casual as a comment on the weather: “Well, it’s not every day someone meets their murderer, no?”

Aaron stares at him.

“Oh, what, you haven’t framed it that way to yourself? Why am I not surprised.”

“I don’t remember any of it,” Aaron chokes out. “I don’t know what happened, maybe it was an accident, _you don't know either_ \--”

Alexander reaches out and touches Aaron, right where the mark on his ribs is, and Aaron flinches hard enough to fall back against the wall, for two reasons. The first is that he does not want anyone anywhere near his chest, for reasons unrelated to Alexander’s purposes; the second is that it felt like someone had zapped him with an electric current.

Alexander pulls his hand back in, cradles it in his other hand. The expression on his face, the bewildered way he looks at his fingertips, makes it clear he felt the same thing.

“The fuck was that for?” Aaron says, finally.

“I just wanted to make sure,” Alexander says, and puts his hands in his pockets. He is studying Aaron. “You don’t seem like the type of guy that would shoot someone.”

“Neither of us know the circumstances, it could have been anything. Anything at all. We could have been on opposite sides of a war, for fuck’s sake.”

Alexander is still staring him down. Aaron still has this feeling in his chest, like he’s being tugged towards Alexander.

“Alex! Who you talkin’ to-- _oh_ ,” and a very significant eyebrow waggle from a very freckled guy who has just approached Alexander.

“Change of plans,” Alexander mutters. “He and I-- we match,” he says, indicating his chest, and the new guy’s eyes go very wide.

“Shit, dude.”

“I’m still here,” Aaron says, because he is truthfully extremely uncomfortable with these two discussing him like he can’t hear them.

“Maybe you should go, then,” the other guy says.

Aaron sees Alexander open his mouth--to agree? to argue? his expression is unclear--and decides he really doesn’t want to stick around.

He turns on his heel and leaves, steps out into the cold night and goes back to his apartment.

He feels like there’s a hole in his chest, right where he felt tugged towards Alexander.

 

Of course things can’t be left just like that. Aaron goes in to work on Monday and is introduced to their new employee.

His name is Alexander Hamilton, and he stares at Aaron with undisguised shock.

“Have you met?” asks their boss.

“We keep meeting,” they say at the same time.

Their boss raises his eyebrows and exits. Alexander looks at Aaron, wide-eyed, and promptly absconds after him.

 

They are assigned to the same case.

Alexander comes in and slams a binder down on Aaron’s desk and says, “You’re my co-counsel. Don’t fuck it up.”

Aaron opens his mouth to respond, but Alexander leaves.

 

The unfortunate reality is that they have to actually interact with each other to accomplish what they need to do. Aaron tries to remain as professional as is physically possible, but this is rather difficult when Alexander is confrontational and contrary as often as is also physically possible.

“Look, we need to present a united front, or else we’re going to lose this case and it’s going to be embarrassing.”

Alexander rolls his eyes and keeps reading.

Aaron wonders if he was this infuriating last time, too.

 

Aaron is not free of spite, so he spends the entire two weeks leading up to the trial constructing the most flawless opening statement he can manage. He puts everything they’ve come up with into it, as neatly and succinctly as possible.

When Alexander goes up to make his closing statement, it’s clear on his face that he has nothing to say that Aaron hasn’t already said. Aaron is smug and Alexander is fuming.

They win the case.

Their success prompts them to be assigned to more projects together. Alexander doesn’t even try to hide his annoyance. Aaron tries his best.

 

He stops to get coffee on his way to work, and finds that right in front of him in line is Alexander and the other man from the bar. They are completely unaware of his presence; their backs are to him. Aaron pulls out his phone to pretend he is not eavesdropping

“John,” Alexander whines.

“Alex,” John mimics back.

“I have to collaborate with _him_ today.”

“Ooh, poor baby, has to go sit in a room with a hot guy for hours on end.”

“Shut up, he wasn’t supposed to be hot, I’m pretty upset about it. Like, the chances of us even being alive in the same place and time frame and we actually met, and work at the same fucking place is infinitesimal enough, and then he has to be my age and obscenely attractive? Like, what the fuuuu-- oh god.”

Aaron glances up from his phone to see Alexander and John staring at him. Aaron paints a smile on his face and raises his eyebrows.

“Can I help you with something?”

“Fuck you,” says Alexander, and grabs John by the arm and hauls him out of the Starbucks.

Interesting.

 

Aaron is reading through some notes when Alexander slinks into his office, looking rather uncomfortable. Aaron glances up as Alexander sits down across from him. He sets down his notes.

“Hello,” says Aaron. He isn’t really sure where this is headed.

Neither, apparently, is Alexander. “Um. So.”

“So?”

“I, uh. We’ve got to-- we’ve got to work on this stuff. For the case. Yeah.”

Aaron has to bite his lip to keep himself from smiling. “Thank you for the reminder. Let’s get to it, shall we? Unless, of course, there is something else on your mind.”

“Um,” he says. “Look,” he says. “Well-- I-- you've probably got your shit together for this, I’ll just-- I’ll see you tomorrow. Okay? Okay.”

With that, Alexander stands and flees the room.

 

The trial goes smoothly, the next day; their client is acquitted.

Alexander looks at Aaron, heat in his eyes, and Aaron says, “I’m going back to my office.” It's a light comment, a throwaway thing, really.

He is walking through the door of his office when Alexander appears around the corner of the other hallway. Aaron raises his eyebrows and steps inside. Alexander follows. He closes the door.

They both move quickly enough for it to be uncertain who, exactly, kissed whom first. First Aaron’s back is against the wall, then Alexander’s, and they're gasping for breath, grabbing at each other. Alexander’s hands travel down Aaron’s back, go to grab his ass, and Aaron has a flash of panic. He drops his hand between the two of them, palms at Alexander’s crotch before Alexander can get to his, afraid of what he might do or say or think if he found out--

Alexander, who has shown every sign of wanting this and has no qualms about fucking someone new, Alexander, who had probably approached him in the first place to hook up with him--

Alexander pushes down on Aaron’s shoulders, just enough pressure for Aaron to get the idea, and Aaron drops to his knees, overbalances, falls on his ass.

He stares up at Alexander with wide eyes, and the tension and intensity and immediacy drops right out of the situation.

“Aaron-- fuck, are you okay?”

“Just, I... I don't want you to think I’m--like--doing this to make up for something some different iteration of myself did to some different iteration of you and-- fuck. I just. Fuck. You’re too good for hatesex, I’m not doing that, not with you, not ever.”

Alexander slides down the wall to sit in front of Aaron. “Hey, hey, no, it’s okay, we probably should’ve talked first. I’m sorry. I’ll back off if you want me to, I swear, I’ll be professional like for real and I’ll stop being a shit to you and it’ll be fine, I…” He pauses, looks Aaron in the face. “I don’t hate you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“You’re gorgeous and you’re not the asshole I thought you would be. You put up with my bullshit, that requires a metric fuckton of patience.”

“I’ll say.”

Alexander snorts, but he looks at Aaron and there is almost a smile on his face. “I think you’re beautiful, Aaron, and I would quite gladly take you to bed.”

Aaron rolls his eyes. “You’re not even a quarter as smooth as you think you are. Besides, as taken as I might be with that invitation, I think you might be expecting different equipment than I am fitted with, so if that’s a dealbreaker, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” There. Now it’s out there.

“Oh,” says Alexander.

“Um,” says Aaron, and goes to stand. Alexander reaches for his hand, and Aaron freezes.

“No, don’t go, I was just, uh, reimagining. Do-- Aaron, do you want to-- do you want to do this? Anything you’re interested and comfortable doing, I want to do it. I want you.”

Aaron should say no. He barely knows this man, this man who has had a wholly understandable grudge against him the entire time they’ve known each other-- this man who just pauses to reimagine the situation instead of being repulsed-- this man whose body feels electric against Aaron’s--

“We aren’t fucking in my office.”

“What about mine?” Alexander says, and cracks a smile. And Aaron can’t help it-- he laughs, and Alexander laughs too, and leans forward to rest his head against Aaron’s shoulder. Aaron strokes his hair--it’s so soft--and they stay like that, for just a moment. “No, we can get out of here. My place or yours?”

“Mine, if it’s all the same to you?”

“Okay,” Alexander says, and kisses Aaron. It’s meant to be just one, but they stay on the floor, Aaron’s hands combing through Alexander’s hair, Alexander’s hands cupping Aaron’s face, kissing over and over and over until Aaron stops to breathe and smile at Alexander and tell him _let’s go, beautiful._

**Author's Note:**

> anyway on the off chance this concept inspires you it's plenty open to play around with, so live ur dreams (& if you do you should tell me so i can love it) (i'm on tumblr at waitforit--waitforit)


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